


Wrap Me Around Round Round Round

by damnremus (malivolus)



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Photography, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sweet Sex, exhibition kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:07:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malivolus/pseuds/damnremus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither was completely sure whose idea it had been. But the day was hot – so hot – and there was so little to do in a town like Lima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrap Me Around Round Round Round

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Jessie J's "Sexy Silk."

Blaine loved the way Kurt’s body flooded from one plane to another. There were no harsh, jutting stops like the kind that littered Blaine’s body, but instead Kurt’s skin stretched over his frame so … gracefully. Kurt’s thighs flowed from his abdomen, his hipbones, his ribs, mountain ranges among muscle. Kurt’s collarbone expanded from his chest with breath, pulled away from his ribcage with a gentle slope that Blaine couldn’t help but adorn with open-mouthed kisses. Kurt’s temples, his neck, the palms of his hands, all poured from one to the other in a manner Blaine had yet to observe in anyone else. Kurt’s body was perfect.

And Kurt’s body was currently spread across Blaine’s blue checkerboard bed sheets, clad in those sinful black briefs that he only brought out on Sex Days, and Blaine was speechless. As always.

“Blainey.” Kurt smiled at him. This, however, was no normal smile – not that a smile from Kurt Hummel ever was. This smile curled at the edges and was accompanied by the languid stretch of Kurt’s biceps.

Filtered by the steady, simmering, sultry midday light which dripped through the window, everything was slow. Every moment seemed to stretch for hours as Kurt spread himself further across the sheets of Blaine’s bed and pushed the fabric of his underwear lower over his hips. Every inch of skin soaked in the light seemed to glow, not so much in the weird alien way but the more in the ‘god you are so much more gorgeous than men should be made and looking at you is everything I need and want to do and if I could exist in one moment, I might just pick this one because you are so stunning and perfect and you’re waiting for me to step out of my own head and take these pictures to file away in some unnamed folder on the dark, tucked away recesses of my computer’ way.

“Blainey.” There was insistence and impatience and something else underneath that Blaine had only ever heard from Kurt a few times before.

“Kurt.”

“I think you ought to take some pictures now.”

There was something about taking those pictures that made Blaine’s skin crawl and his hair stand on end at the same time. He felt, well, he really felt like he was doing something ugly, like taking those photos of Kurt, that was the wrong thing to do.

Except it couldn’t be because Kurt looked at him like the sun, the moon, and the stars had all transfixed themselves upon Blaine’s face, moved with every click of the camera like he was moving with the tide, allowed himself to be displayed, documented, preserved in his seventeen year old youth with intimate relish. And anything that made Kurt feel like that, look like that, was nothing Blaine was going to shy away from.

“On your –” Blaine took a breath. “Back?”

Kurt shifted and Blaine documented the movement of his freckles across his ribs, his sides, the planes of his back. In the moments following, Blaine could only hear Kurt exhale and the harsh click of the camera capturing another image. His fingers gathered sweat slowly and began to slip across the buttons as Kurt moved over his sheets, dragging his form this way and that, all the while, Blaine’s pants growing increasingly uncomfortable.

It was just that Kurt had this way about him that Blaine was so incredibly, embarrassingly, overwhelmingly addicted to. It wasn’t just his skin, or his frame, or the way he held himself. It was everything. It was his birthmark, two thumbprints in from his left side, just above the elastic of his briefs, and his eyes, just visible at Blaine’s present angle, a sort of fiery blue-green-gray that had thus far been chalked up by everyone else as simply ‘nice’ and ‘blue.’ It was his smirk, his smell, the jut of his cock against the fabric of his underwear and, oh god, Blaine could see the wet mark already soaking into the briefs. Kurt made Blaine crazy, pure and simple. And he loved him for it.

There’s a shot of Kurt, reclining on his stomach, with his ass bobbing on the left side of the frame, and Blaine stopped his clicking for a moment to look at it. The goosebumps littering the backs of his thighs were detailed in beautiful definition and Blaine had two thoughts: 1) He needed to write Cooper a belated thank you card for this camera and 2) Kurt had goosebumps in a room that was approximately eighty six degrees.

The last thought has Blaine chuckling softly, stifling it as soon as he realizes, because the sweat was pooling on the back of his neck, the folds of his knees, along the knobs of his spine in this oppressive Ohio heat and Kurt had goosebumps as if it was the second day of February.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“You have goosebumps.”

“You put them there.”

And all of a sudden, Blaine wasn’t laughing anymore. Placing the camera nimbly on his dresser, his knees pressed against his mattress and he fell beside Kurt on the bed. It took no time for Kurt to press their mouths together, at an awkward sort of angle, but neither seemed to mind. An exhale sounded in the space between them and Blaine had a thought that maybe there should be no space between them as his arm circled across Kurt’s back, just above the fat swell of his ass, and clung desperately to his jutting hipbone.

Kurt licked across the seam of his lips and Blaine, only too eager to oblige, accepted his tongue with a groan. Trailing along the back of Blaine’s front teeth, Kurt huffed gently, the warm, damp air falling heavily on the newly-shaven skin of Blaine’s upper lip and Blaine sagged into the mattress, allowed Kurt to climb atop him, pressing him further into the soft give and could only kiss back as Kurt made his fingers melt, his toes, feet, legs slide off his register and disappear from his conscious.

The skin under Blaine’s palm erupted into new found goosebumps. Unable to help himself any longer, Blaine smoothed his hand across the ridges of Kurt’s ribs, down over the smooth flat of his back, and under the fabric of his briefs. He spread his fingers across Kurt’s ass, the tips just reaching the juncture to the back of his thighs, and hiccupped a moan into the space he had yet to fully rectify between them.

Kurt liked to bite Blaine’s lip whenever Blaine had decided to forgo his gentlemanly natures and grab at Kurt’s ass like a desperate man. It was a give and take sort of deal: Blaine kneaded at Kurt, Kurt near broke through the skin on his lip. It was the kind of trick Blaine pulled out when it was time to take clothes off and Kurt had never complained before, spurring Blaine to file it away for when his dick couldn’t take the neglect any longer. He’d never say it was ethical, but Kurt had never asked for that sort of thing.

Teeth nipped at Blaine’s bottom lip and he smiled into them, slipping the tips of his fingers under the elastic of Kurt’s briefs, dragging them down, down, down until his thumbs were catching along the line of Kurt’s ass, skin to skin, and Kurt’s breath was short and needy in his mouth. There were hands on Blaine’s hips, pushing his boxers lower on his frame with a sort of annoyed frustration and with a last sloppy press of their lips, Kurt sat up, climbed to the edge of the bed, and stood. Grabbing Blaine’s ankles, Kurt pulled harshly, skidding Blaine across the fabric of his sheets, landing his ass squarely on the edge with an ease that seemed almost practiced, despite their collective inexperience.

Blaine cooperated as best he could, lifting himself off the bed when Kurt began tugging at his boxers again, holding up his arms as Kurt jerked with his tee shirt. After he was unclothed, Kurt placed Blaine’s hands on the fabric of his hips, looped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, pulled himself closer and pressed a kiss, slow, gentle, even, to Blaine’s lips.

They didn’t speak when Blaine slid his fingers into the briefs. They didn’t speak when he grabbed at the fat, trembling swell of Kurt’s ass. They didn’t speak as the briefs hit the floor or when Blaine spent some, undeterminable time tracing the pucker of Kurt’s hole with his index finger. Instead, they shared sporadic kisses, heavy breaths, brushes of eyelashes against straining cheeks.

When they fell back onto the bed, Blaine was on Kurt’s chest, pressing him down into the mattress and he wasn’t even pretending to hold himself up, to take some of his weight off because he knew Kurt could handle it and if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever discovered about someone, he didn’t know what sexy was at all.

Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the curve of Kurt’s collarbone, Blaine began a slow, rolling rhythm with his hips, dragging his cock over Kurt’s, catching the tip of his under the lip of Kurt’s crown and knocking the ridges together every time he made a upward thrust. Kurt’s breathing was soft and incomplete and Blaine loved the way it huffed through his curls, how he could feel the way he was making Kurt feel inch along his scalp. Tucking his arms up under Kurt’s and latching onto his shoulders, Blaine’s palms spread wholly across Kurt’s damp skin, smashed into the mattress under Kurt’s weight.

“I – ” Blaine slid up Kurt’s body and pressed one kiss to Kurt’s lips. “Love you.” His eyes were closed.

“I love you more.” Kurt smiled into the next kiss, pulling Blaine in deeper with a hand on the nape of Blaine’s neck. His free hand extended to the bedside table, fumbling for the lube they had set out before they started this whole business.

Blaine’s fingernails dug into Kurt’s skin, his dick slipping down, into the groove made between Kurt’s balls and the dip of his thigh. His lips brushed across Kurt’s jawline, across the barely there stubble that Kurt deemed not worth the trouble this morning which Blaine knows because he showed up here when Kurt was still in his pajamas and was adorably rumpled and had this bedhead that was so closely resembled the style Kurt sported after they had been making out for quite a while and everything about Kurt was boy and love and sex and everything right then felt so much and so good and so right and Blaine wanted to be inside of this man, his man, right now.

“Kurt, please,” Blaine whined into Kurt’s neck, biting the skin as roughly as he dared. “Please. Hurry up.”

Blaine kissed Kurt’s skin, pressed himself further down into Kurt’s body as Kurt stretched himself open. Every now and again, a noise would find its way out of Kurt mouth and Blaine made it a point to anticipate and muffle each one with his mouth.

The process of making room for Blaine may have taken hours or possibly minutes, but Blaine was useless in any such time telling endeavors at that point, consumed in tracing the outline of every one of Kurt’s freckles with his tongue, nudging against Kurt’s body with his nose, breathing in every ounce of their love and their youth and their bodies together at that moment.

“Do you want … ?”

Blaine looked up from his line of bruises at Kurt’s soft question, furrowing his brows against Kurt’s neck, and shaking his head once he saw the small, metallic package Kurt held between his index finger and his thumb.

“No. Wanna come inside you. That’s okay?”

Kurt’s lips quirked up, his fingers twitched and threw the condom onto the carpet.

“Yeah.”

Kurt’s palm still nestled into the curls at the nape of Blaine’s neck, his other hand snaked down, circled around Blaine’s dick as it nudged past his balls. His grip made Blaine cry out, stifle his excitement once more in the bridge between Kurt’s neck and his shoulder, and the boy made small, aborted attempts to thrust into the hand that held him. Kurt slipped the tip of Blaine’s cock across his ass cheek, smeared Blaine’s precome across his snowy skin, and bit his lip as it began to chill and cool. He circled the crown around his sticky, stretched hole and Blaine could feel Kurt’s dick throb against his stomach as Kurt began to press Blaine inside and Blaine tried to hold back, tried not to thrust wildly, tried to be patient and gentle and everything Kurt’s pamphlets had said, tried to be nothing like the videos he watched for his own education, tried so hard not to feel the tight heat exploding around his dick and he was pretty sure that he was melting on top of Kurt, his entire blood supply leaving his veins empty, which couldn’t be true because there was a roaring in his ears like the ocean in a storm and Kurt was swallowing him whole.

“Blaine.” Kurt sounded like he couldn’t feel his toes.

“Blaine, I need you to move. Please.”

And so Blaine lifted his hips just enough to pull himself from Kurt maybe an inch, probably less, using his arms, still pinned beneath Kurt’s body, to propel his momentum as he pushed back in, breathing out and hearing himself echo across Kurt’s collarbone.

Kurt was so perfect and so tight and so boy and Blaine found it easier to leave Kurt’s body when he knew he’d be replacing himself near immediately. The consequence of such an action – if actions like making love had consequences at all – was a punishing pace Blaine was in no physical condition to keep up for more than ten minutes and they promised themselves this time, it wouldn’t be over in less than a half an hour because Cosmo said things became infinitely more intense around the twenty minute mark and Blaine didn’t know why he was thinking about these things when he was having sex with his boyfriend for the eighth time ever.

They kissed. Kurt tangled their limbs together until neither was sure which belonged to which and their exhales came at the same time. When Blaine became tired and his thighs protested, his thrusts slowed to small punctuations in a conversation carried on between the looks they exchanged. It was enough to lie there on top of Kurt, as close as they had ever been and as close as they could manage, inside of him, with Kurt’s hands resting on his neck and his spine, embracing each other and breathing each other and existing in one form.

“I love you.”

“Love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

It was somewhere in this stream of I love you’s that Blaine felt the knot of heat in his stomach begin to curl closer to the surface, tighter than before. His thighs ached and his knuckles screamed to be released from their white knuckled grip, but Kurt was kissing Blaine’s hair, pressing his lips above his ear, and whispering back the same words Blaine felt himself chanting, and Blaine pushed himself up, balancing on his wrists and looked down at what he had done to his boyfriend.

Kurt’s neck lay in one continuous bruise, his hands rested on Blaine’s ass, urging him to continuing thrusting as Blaine blinked down at him. He was slim, not particularly defined, but in no way reminiscent of the few women with which Blaine had found himself casually acquainted. He was long, gentle, uniquely masculine, everything Cooper had once told Blaine a boy could never be. God. Blaine loved him for it.

Kurt was hot around him, tightening every time Blaine drew out as if he couldn’t stand the thought of being unconnected. Bearing down, Blaine sunk in again, held himself as far into Kurt as he could reach, and closed his eyes against the pleasure now curling at the edges of his skin. The hands on his ass drifted upward with a purpose, light but full of intent and desire and love, grazing the bottom edges of Blaine’s shoulder blades before they stopped and Kurt’s voice travelled up to Blaine.

“I’m close.”

Then, “Come here. Please.”

Blaine sank down, resumed his previous position wrapped around Kurt in every sense he could manage, and began to pound himself into Kurt’s body. Crystals of sweat, having dried in past moments, melted once more under Kurt’s touch as it meandered across the planes of Blaine’s back. Blaine timed his kisses to Kurt’s neck with the hitches his breath took on when Blaine grazed his prostate until Kurt turned his head, pressed their lips together with a desperation Blaine had come to dream about.

Every time Blaine pulled out, Kurt whined, unashamed, against his lips and every time Blaine thrust back in, Kurt sighed his drawn out, not-quite-a-moan sigh. These only served to spur Blaine on, his hips moving faster as he ignored the cramping in the back of his thighs and focused instead on Kurt: Kurt’s heartbeat, Kurt’s touch, the impossible heat of Kurt around him. Everything was Kurt and everything was honeyed and everything was gentle and hot and fast and sweaty and bittersweet as Blaine felt Kurt beginning to contract and whisper to him: coming, coming, coming, oh my god, Blaine, coming, oh god, oh god.

And Blaine knew he was just this close to coming too but something was stopping him, he didn’t want to, not yet, not until Kurt was talking to him, was saying to him Blaine, baby, come with me, please, please I need you to, please.

And, fuck, he was. Blaine was spilling, Kurt’s bare flesh pulling his come from him with relish and Kurt was burying kisses into his skin, pushing bruises onto the white, driving out all space between their bodies.

Coming down was like crashing.

They shared kisses as their breathing evened out and Blaine tried not to notice as his come became gummy and tacky. His skin was stretched too tightly and too loosely at the same time, his fingers slightly pruned from their combined sweat, his stomach clung to Kurt’s, glued by the come Blaine hadn’t noticed Kurt spilling there.

“I love you.”

Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt – exhausted, messy, glowing – and lost his breath for a long moment.

“I love you too.”


End file.
